On The Tip Of Your Tongue
by Guardian of a Friend
Summary: Webby could do a great many things. Lying was never one of them and if he asked she would tell him. Probably. But omission isn't really a lie… Right?


Everyone had their own reasons for covering up a soul mark.

When she was little, Webby wrapped a pink ribbon around her wrist to make the whole thing a little more mysterious. Like she was playing a game. It's not like she needed to see it anyways, the name was burned in her memory as much as her wrist and she'd spent many lazy afternoons learning to write it in as many non-Romanian languages as possible. No matter where her soulmate was in the world, she would find them.

It didn't occur to her that there might be another reason _she_ would want to cover their name.

* * *

Twelve times. He had heard her first name exactly twelve times and he never so much as _twitched_ , Webby reminded herself. That didn't stop her hands from shaking in her lap as roll call began. The hardest day of AP Calculus should not be the first day. And yet here she was, a sweaty anxious blob as each name slowly approached the V's. In. Out. In. Out. _Today is just like every other day_. In. Out. In. Out.

A cat picture was shoved in her face and Webby had to blink before her eyes would focus on the text above it. With a huff, she shoved Louie's phone away and squinted at him. Her goal was to look stern but the smile she was fighting gave her away. Louie stuffed the cell phone back into the pocket of his hoodie and rolled his head, which had been thrown over the back of his chair like he was sleeping, and raised an eyebrow at her. "Relax Webs, it's literally syllabus day."

"I know but... it's Calculus?"

His face scrunched in disbelief. "Yeah, and you probably already learned it with your ninja granny in Chinese-"

"-Mandarin-"

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and scooted so he wasn't about to fall out of his seat. "The point is, Huey does enough worrying for half the planet so chill." The boy in question glanced up from the journal on his desk.

"I resent that."

"I don't remember caring."

Webby laughed quietly to herself and shook her head. Their group of four had been slowly drifting apart since freshman year and while Webby shared most of her classes with one of the brothers it'd been longer than she cared to admit since she got to just sit and watch them bicker. _Almost like breathing._ With a smile, Webby caught the teacher's eye at the tail end of her name.

"-gail Vanderquack."

"Here!" Her hand shot up quickly and the instructor nodded towards where she was seated in the middle of the room. Propping her head in her hand, Webby let her focus drift slowly back to the boys. _When did I stop shaking?_

"Omygod! Nope, not another word! I'm exhausted just listening to you, Webby, back me up here-"

Today was no different. _Thirteen._

It didn't make her feel any better.

"Glue."

"Glue."

"Fabric."

"Silver with sequins or silver with glitter?"

"Glitter obviously."

"Fabric."

"Time check?"

"Eight o' two."

"Damn," Dewey rolled his fingers off the wooden set piece, careful not to pull with the glue that had adhered to his fingers. Stepping back, he eyed his work and slung an arm around Webby's shoulders. They nodded once at each other, faces set in a grim line. Webby cracked first, laughing and hip checked him. "Assuming Uncle Donald doesn't kill me for being out past curfew, I believe we are in business Miss Webbigail."

She stepped away from Dewey and bent down, stuffing the leftover fabric and paper scraps into their box. "All that's left is the rose right?"

Dewey hummed in confirmation and grabbed some of the trash that had accumulated around them. "Huey said the robotics club almost have it where the petals wilt from a remote. Not that anyone will be able to see it from the top of the tower set but still. It's pretty cool."

"Is it bad that I'm already ready for next year's musical?"

"What being a whisk not good enough for you?" Webby stuck her tongue out. "I'm just excited to finally audition for a main role."

Huey nodded in agreement, slinging his pack over his shoulder and grabbing hers. He held it out to her as they moved to exit the auditorium and she gripped the offered strap, tugging to pull it from her friend's grip. The backpack didn't budge. "Dewey what-" but the boy had frozen to the spot. She stepped forward then stilled, his eyes not meeting hers. The small ribbon felt like lead in her back pocket, the quick _I'll put it back once we're done with the paint_ sitting like sand in her throat. Webby ripped the bag from his hands and held the inside of her arm against her stomach protectively. And waited.

It felt like a century passed before Dewey blinked and met her eyes, probing her like the frog from Freshman year Bio. Unnerved and unwilling to hear the questions building in his mouth, she shoved past him into the hall, making a bee line for the parking lot behind the school. _You wouldn't understand._ "Wait!" She cursed her luck and paused, securing the ribbon around her wrist and watching him catch up. He matched her brisk pace immediately, stealing glances at her covered wrist as they approached the car. Webby found she generally wasn't concerned about her lack of a vehicle, but tonight? Tonight she really wished she didn't rely on Dewey for rides.

The drive to the manor was silent, punctuated only by the coughing of the motor after each red light. For that Webby was thankful. But she knew her best friend about as well as he knew her and took a quick breath the moment the long drive to McDuck Manor was illuminated with Dewey's headlights. He broke the silence before she pushed all the air out of her lungs. "Why?"

"Why what?"

His hand slammed against the steering wheel. Anyone else would've flinched. Webby wouldn't afford herself the luxury. "Cut the shit! You know damn well 'what'!"

"I don't see why it is such a big deal." A shrug, her eyes focused on pushing her cuticles back with her nails. Dewey slowed to a stop and threw the car into park fifty feet from the entrance gate. The headlights clicked off at the press of a button, flooding everything in darkness.

"Webs it's-" he paused, his voice low, defeated. "It's your soulmate, Webby. Of course it's important." Shifting, he rested his arm against the console palm up. "Do you think it's him? I mean I know it's an uncommon name but still-"

"Yes."

"Then I don't understand! Why! Why didn't you ever say anything?" He dropped off into a whisper, matching her own response.

"I told you it's not that big of a deal-"

He pushed ahead, ignoring her interjection. "Were you..." A short gasp and Webby was instantly flooded with guilt before the words were even spoken. "Are you embarrassed that it's him? That he's one of... _us."_

 _"-_ What! Nonono-"

"I mean, I know we're dysfunctional at the best of times and kind of all over the place, but we try wereallydoandifit'snothatthen _whatisit?Whatdidwedowrong-"_

Webby grasped his hand on the console and squeezed it tight between both hands before bringing it up towards her face, head bowed. "Dewey. Dewey, please it's nothing like that, nothing is wrong with you or him or anyone. Your family is lovely I promise-"

"-we're trying I swear, we-"

"Shuuush. I know. I know, no one did anything wrong. This was me, it was all me, Dewey _look at me._ " She didn't need the glow of the moon through the windshield to know he was near tears, _but_ she thinks _at least he can see I am too._ "Your family is my everything, Dewey. They're my heroes, your uncles, and you and Huey and Louie, why, you're brilliant." She covered the hiccup with a cough and moved her left hand to tug at the ribbon on her wrist, revealing the dark black lettering that sat next to their joined hands. "How can I hope to compare to that Dewey? I'm just me."

"Yeah? Then so am I. So is he." Dewey squeezed their joint hands and caught her stare. She choked on the newest wave of tears. "He adores you, Webs, we all do honestly. And I think he has some variation of your name on his wrist, so I don't get why he never mentioned it-"

"He has Abbigail written on his wrist."

"And?"

"You guys have never once called me by my given name. I don't think- I doubt he's put it together." Dewey's mouth shifted into an O as realization dawned on him.

"We always called you Webbigail. After your nickname."

"It's how he wrote it on official assignments and everything. He doesn't know."

Dewey pulled his hand away from her then and sat back against the car door, his brow furrowed. "I know my brother, he's not that stupid. Maybe he was just afraid to say something, like you. Or probably freaked when you never brought it up, I mean Webby keeping a secret? Surely the world is ending. Or better yet he's probably just trying to see if he can make a profit off of it. You know that's something he would do. Or-"

"Or maybe he just doesn't want it to be me." Dewey blinked. _Error, Dewey.m is experiencing connection difficulties._ She wanted to laugh, really she did. "Just because I'm his friend doesn't mean he wants me as a soulmate. Especially when he doesn't even budge at my name after seven years. We've had classes together, he's been there for roll call, so the only thing that makes sense to me is if he's hoping it's someone else." Webby shook her head slowly and turned around so she was facing forward in the car. In almost a whisper, " _I can't take that from him._ "

She could feel his eyes for a few seconds lingering on her before he reached over and turned on the engine. The car revved to life as he pulled up to the gate, entered the pass code and drove to the front entrance. As he parked the car, Webby reached for the book bag at her feet, her movements slow and heavy. Stepping out, Webby waved and closed the car door. She had almost put the keys into the lock when she heard the squeal from his window rolling down.

"Do you promise you'll tell him?"

A sigh. A shrug. A sad smile with the tiniest bit of hope even she couldn't squash out.

"Maybe. If he asks."

Dewey nodded in response and drove off down the path, starting the fifteen-minute drive to the docks where the houseboat was parked. _I hope Mr. Duck won't be too mad at him,_ she thought before fitting the key properly into the lock. Turning it over, she stared at the lettering revealed on her wrist. A name she had burned into her retinas by the age of eight. A name she wished she could run from by the age of ten. The name of the boy she wanted to spend her forever with.

 ** _Llewellyn_**

Webby opened the front door.


End file.
